Tom Hiddleston Oneshots

Him and Coffee

I'm cold. Bloody cold. It's the summer, well, supposed to be the summer, but as with the Irish weather, it continues to be unpredictable. Last week, it had been balmy heat, and scorching sun, and now your well conditioned tan was fading rapidly under the sunless sky and drizzling rain.

I pull my coat a little tighter and walk through the cobbled street, dodging puddles and gazing up at the ashen clouds. Finally I reach the little coffee shop I've been heading for and as the doors open, I'm caressed by the smell of roasting java, and cradled by the comforting warmth.

Joining the queue of equally cold customers you look around, smiling at the atmosphere. It's a quaint shop, filled with old, mismatched furniture, and the coffee was served in mugs that you'd find in a student's top cupboard. It was a friendly place, and here you could relax and read, spend the afternoon away from the cold.

I ordered a latte, taking a moment to enjoy the lilting tone of the barista as he chats with me about the weather, and the day to day life of work. I turn away a moment later, a large mug plastered with cats in one hand, and a plated slice of chocolate cake in the other. I find a perfect spot at the back of the café, a large leather chair. Before I can breathe in, my foot is obstructed and I trip, the mug and plate breaking on the stone tiles, the cake and myself goes flying.

I can't put your hands up, as their full, so I hit the floor knees first, hands finally responding to the reflex as the cup and plate disappear. Firstly I notice pain, then the frequent, repeated, apologising.

I look up and freeze. Everything is forgotten. No. Oh no, not this, not him, not here. Looking down at me, and offering a hand, is a face you know all too well, a face that makes my heart stop, and my stomach turn to knots. A face that is loved by hundreds across the world, and the voice that speaks has soothed you to sleep almost every night.

Helping me up, is Tom Hiddleston. He's apologising over and over, and I realise that his foot was what I tripped over. Staff are clearing up the mess I've made, and now I'm alone with Tom, sat opposite him now, rubbing my knees and still unable to speak.

Finally, he pauses, realising I'm still in shock, and looks at me. His blue eyes lock onto my warm brown eyes, and everything stops. The world slows down. I forget how to breathe, what to say, how to function, all I can think, and feel is him.

Looking back on it, falling in love for the first time wasn't meant to be like this, the feeling was supposed to grow, like my parents had grown in love, but here I were. Face to face with a famous actor, the man who haunted my dreams, and feeling absolute love. Not manic, obsessive fan love. True love, deep love. I want to hold him, touch him, tell him these feelings. I push all the thoughts away, but he speaks again, and jolts myself from the moment.

"Miss, are you alright?" His head is tilted slightly, brows raised in concern, hands laid palm up, showing open and worried body language. I take a deep breath, and continue to rub your knees, my body shaking a little from the fall.

"Yes.. Thank you, just a little, um.. shell shocked." He nods, and lowers his head for a moment. "I am so, so sorry. I had no idea my leg would be in the way, it was my foot that made you trip I think, I'm so sorry."

I shook my head, a smile finally breaking your pained expression.

"No, please stop apologizing. I was the idiot. I'm very clumsy. I should look where I'm going."

He laughs as well, taking the drink and cake from the waiter as he comes over, the café very kindly replacing the food that had been spoilt when I fell. I grasp the cup and thank the waiter, turning my attention completely back to Tom. He talks again, apologising, and asking if there was anything he could do.

I sip the drink, closing my eyes as I drank the coffee, sweet sugar and warm milk, just what I needed after such an event. Then it dawns on my mind. I'm having coffee with Tom Hiddleston. I let go a silent, high pitched scream inside my head. My heart skips a beat and I feel a little lightheaded.

I take a moment to speak again, needing a few seconds to make cognitive function possible.

"No, no. I'm okay. Honestly. Thank you, sir." I didn't trust myself saying his name, otherwise I would explode. And that wouldn't be pretty. Tom raises a subtle eyebrow and I feel my insides go to liquid.

Tom looks absolutely breath taking.

"I am sorry again Miss." He tilts his head inquisitively. We talk for what seems an age, about everything, conversation flowing like water, and he even pauses, playfully asking if I want an autograph, to which you blush, and nod like a giddy child.

He signs a napkin, and turns it over, hiding the second part of writing from sight, and folds the paper up, before handing it back, and what's on the back? His number. Oh my God. His number, Tom's number. I blush once more and thank him quietly before slipping the napkin into your handbag.

Tom finished his cold tea, and scratch his head. "Darling, I'm afraid I have to go, but before I do..." He leaned over and place a kiss on my cheek. "I'm so sorry I tripped you over, but drop me a text because I'd like to make it up to you."

There on your lips, he places a kiss, and I close your eyes, lost in the moment, heart racing, blood pounding in my ears, and then it's over, and by time you open your eyes, Tom is gone, the door swinging behind him.

I slump back, breathing quickly, licking my lips and tasting the peppermint on his breath. "Oh Styx..." I breathe out in a whisper, and quickly searched my bag for the napkin, put the number in my phone, and there's another surprise. Tucked inside the folds of paper, is one more message.

Do you believe in love at first sight? Because I do xx.